Page 31 of Never Kiss a Krampus
He gave an oddly human half-shrug. “It’s part of what I am.”
His hands were still on my hips. His body was still close behind mine. His amber eyes glowed with amusement and something darker.
“So you don’t even need me to decorate the tree. You could just float all the balls in place.”
“I could,” he agreed, and the rumble of his vibrated down my spine. “But then you would not learn your lesson.”
“Lesson?” I scoffed. “You’re holding my hips hostage to teach me a lesson?”
“I am ensuring your safety. And also… observing.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a confidential murmur. “You become flustered. Your breathing changes. Your pulse races. It is a fascinating reaction to proximity.”
Heat washed over me, and it had nothing to do with the effort of balancing on a ladder. I prided myself on my unflappable cheerfulness, but I was blushing because a seven-foot-tall horned demon was teasing me about my physiological responses.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accused.
“You are… intriguing,” he corrected, which was somehow worse.
“Right. Intriguing.” I placed the blue ornament on the branch with a little too much force, sending a shower of fake pine needles raining down. “There. Can I get down now?”
“Not until the red one is placed.”
Of course not. The red one was on the other side of the tree, which would require me to pivot on my precarious perch, turning within the circle of his arms.
I took a deep breath and did it, my back brushing against his chest as I twisted. His hands remained steady on my hips, but I felt him go utterly still, the jingle of his chains ceasing entirely. The air between us grew thick, heavy with a sudden, electric awareness that had nothing to do with decoration and had everything to do with the male caging me in.
Through the thin fabric of my jeans, the heat of his hands was a constant, branding pressure, and I could feel the faint prickle of his claws. My fingers trembled as I tried to hand the red ornament. I couldn’t get the hook to catch on the branch.
“Allow me,” he murmured. A faint shimmer of blue frost wrapped around the small metal hook, lifting it from my grasp and guiding it gently onto the branch. It settled into place as if moved by an invisible hand.
“There,” he said, his voice a low rumble against my ear. “Properly placed.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever decorated a tree this efficiently,” I managed.
“Efficiency is important.”
“So you’ve said.”
I expected him to release me then, to step back and allow me to descend. He didn’t. His grip remained firm, a cage of warm hands and undeniable intent.
“You may descend now,” he said, as if reading my mind.He probably is.
I fumbled for the ladder, my hands clumsy, my thoughts racing. I took the first step down, then the second, and the whole ladder wobbled violently. His hands tightened, pulling me back against him with a decisive tug. My back was flush against the solid wall of his chest. My rear was pressed against… something I was definitely not thinking about.
“Careful,” he said. “It would be inconvenient if you were to injure yourself before your judgment is complete.”
“Right,” I squeaked. “Inconvenient.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, foolish rhythm I was certain he could feel. This was a disaster. I was supposed tobe proving my worthiness, not lusting after the being who held my fate in his clawed hands.
I finally made it to the ground, my knees feeling suspiciously like overcooked noodles. I practically scrambled away, turning to face him and trying to look calm and composed and not at all like I’d just been imagining what it would be like to be turned around and properly kissed against the ladder.
He just watched me, one eyebrow slightly raised, a flicker of that predatory amusement back in his eyes. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft jingle of a single link in his chains as he shifted his weight. It was too much. Too intense.
“The tree looks much better,” I said, my voice a little too bright. “You were right. About the balance and everything.”
“Balance is fundamental,” he said, and I was not entirely sure we were still talking about the tree.
“So what was lesson two?”
